


The Lies We Tell Ourselves

by Ishti



Category: Aveyond
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Alternate Universe, Family Drama, Gen, I have no idea where this is going yet, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:22:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26602909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ishti/pseuds/Ishti
Summary: "If Ahriman had just died the first time, none of this would ever have happened."
Relationships: Dameon Maurva & Talia Maurva
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	The Lies We Tell Ourselves

**Author's Note:**

> Maurva deep dive. This seemed like a good idea last night lmao. In case you want to be spoiled for the whole thing:
> 
> Talia travels back to the Ahriman's Prophecy timeline and makes sure Ahriman can never return so that she can have her loving family, and maybe it works, or maybe there's something a little tougher and more painful than simple demon-slaying that she doesn't want to acknowledge. This story follows Dameon, still a studious priest in training to succeed his living and breathing father, and Talia, the distant Dreamer watching a tragic cycle of loss repeat itself.

Dameon Maurva, seventeen, ate lunch on the lawn alone every day except Sunday, when he joined his father in the upper library to discuss his druidic training for the week. Like the rest of the hidden sun temple, the library was constructed almost entirely of arcane glass; the transparent walls wrapped around the spiraling floor, directing light upon the outward-facing bookshelves, and met in a peak above the topmost level. His home was a greenhouse, and he was the flora.

He was hungry today, so he’d loaded his tray with fruit and salad, heaping high to conceal a generous portion of honeyed bread underneath. He’d already filled up on carbohydrates before his morning exercise; he knew that eating the bread for lunch would just make him sleepy, but he had a craving and he couldn’t resist it. The trainer would give Dameon hell if she saw the bread, but his father always indulged him.

Light rain spattered against the glass, refracting the dull sunlight glowing behind cottony purple-grey clouds. The metallic band encircling Dionis Maurva’s shaven head reflected a facsimile of the room. Dameon could see his own shape, stretched and blurred, a wide shadow abstracted in gold. He caught himself staring, entranced by the circlet’s sheen, and met his father’s deep amber eyes.

They sat together at the small, polished table, water stippling the glass high above. Dionis’ long brown fingers deftly worked the peel from a clementine. The pith stripped away from the fruit like the spines of small fish. Dionis offered Dameon a segment.

“Thank you,” said Dameon, accepting the gift. He popped it into his mouth and let the sweet juice coat his tongue.

“Too much sugar can fog your mind and slow your body,” Dionis reminded him, his low voice warm. “I can see you have plenty of fruit on your plate.”

Dameon swallowed. “I know.”

Dionis swept his thumb along the outside of the clementine, rubbing off the last of the pith, before pulling off another segment for himself. “Marta tells me you’ve been restless during your training sessions this week,” he said. “Is something on your mind?”

“No.”

“What are the virtues of the sun, Dameon?”

Dionis’ tone was gentle but authoritative. Dameon knew his father would be patient with him, as always, but it was Dameon’s duty to attain the high standard of the druidic position he would one day inherit. Before Dionis, no other druid had trained their own child to take their place. He had to prove he deserved the honor.

“Dignity, endurance, persistence,” recited Dameon. “Vigor. Order.”

“And conviction. Very good.”

“I was getting to that.”

“Without vigor and endurance, order cannot be upheld.” Dionis munched down another slice of clementine. “I’m doubling your guided meditation for the next week and reassigning your morning chores. You will regain your focus.”

“Yes, father.” Dameon busied himself with a forkful of carrot.

“But I did see you’ve been practicing your light magic after sundown in the infirmary.” Dionis set down his clementine and smiled, pride in his narrowed eyes. “Didn’t you heal Ellen after she was stung by that bee the other night?”

His neck warm, Dameon glanced at his plate. “I wasn’t able to remove the stinger, but she said that the pain eased enough for her to get to sleep.”

“That’s wonderful, Dameon. Few on Aia are half as blessed as you. I want you to shadow me in the infirmary this week; the Oracle has told me a group of ailing pilgrims are about a day’s journey from the shrine.”

“Do you want me to practice on the pilgrims?” asked Dameon, biting his cheek to combat his rising nerves.

“When you feel ready.”

Dameon relaxed at Dionis’ reassuring word. He and his father finished their lunches under the mottled grey sky, sunshine drifting in and out of the library like a noncommittal breeze. The music of a gentle harp lingered at the edge of earshot, echoing the melancholy atmosphere of the drizzly afternoon.

Dionis stood from his chair and took Dameon’s empty tray, holding it level so no breadcrumbs fell to the floor. “Your mother sent me a Dream last night,” he said with a smile. “She asked me to send you to her for the autumn equinox. She’d like to spend the holiday with you.”

“The equinox isn’t much of a holiday,” replied Dameon.

“Do you want to go?”

“I’ll go.”

With a chuckle, Dionis led Dameon down the library stairs. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, Dameon. You could always study the rituals with me.”

Dameon took a long, centering breath. He rubbed one forearm up the other within his spacious sleeves. It had been nearly a year since the last time he saw his mother, and she almost never sent him Dreams. The last time he’d heard a word from her was on his birthday over half a year past. In truth, it was easy to forget he had a mother sometimes with his father so close, watching him and teaching him every day.

“I’ll go,” Dameon repeated, holding the library door open for Dionis. “I miss her just as much as you do.”


End file.
